


The Former Mrs. V.

by crossingwinter



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crack, F/M, Humor, crackity crack crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-29
Updated: 2013-07-29
Packaged: 2017-12-21 17:03:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/902724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossingwinter/pseuds/crossingwinter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>River Song: So hardcore she <strike>was married to </strike> divorced Voldemort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Former Mrs. V.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StormDancer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormDancer/gifts).



He was standing in Malfoy Manor, looking out over the gardens, plotting damnation, destruction, and possibly a sandwich, when she arrived.

“Hello there, darling.”

She was wearing a red sheath dress—red to match the red lipstick, red stiletto heels, and the red rose in her flyaway blonde curls.  He’d recognize that gait anywhere, even if she looked nothing like the black wearing, black braided, black girl he had encountered in his youth.

He let out a hiss, and Nagini slithered past him.  _Everything all right?_ asked the snake.  He did not reply.

“That’s a fine way to greet me, after all these years, Tom.  And what happened to your nose?”  She settled herself in the chair he had been occupying until a few minutes before—the one made of fine leather and mahogany—and swung her legs up onto the desk, her dress falling to reveal a shapely leg through a really unseemly high slit.

“Mels,” he managed through gritted teeth.

“How’s the world domination going?  Well, I would hope.  And I don’t go by Mels anymore.  I suppose that’s fitting, though isn’t it?  Mels and Tom are not anywhere near as exciting as River and Voldemort, are they?”

“Lord,” he muttered.

“What was that?”  She arched an eyebrow, a smile growing across her face.

“Lord Voldemort.”

“Oh.”  She paused, her head cocked.  “But why?  You’re not a lord.”

He glared at her and toyed with his wand.  He supposed he could curse her, torture her, kill her, even.  But somehow he doubted that would work.  Mels had always seemed maddeningly impervious to his magic.  The last time he’d tried, she had seemed to dance away, and—on one occasion—burst into a fit of giggles when he tried casting the Cruciatus Curse on her to make her _go away._

She had been a mistake—the greatest mistake he had ever made, in fact.  One night, in Albania, he had come across a young woman in a bar.  He had not ever in his life had a sip of alcohol, and she had insisted on buying him some rakija.  He supposed he had been flattered—or perhaps flustered—for hers was unlike the fawning of any other woman he had captivated before.  Before too long, he had been rip-roaring drunk, and had woken up the next day with a hangover powerful enough to knock out a dragon and…

“Does that make me a Lady, then?  Lady Voldemort?  Lady Song?  I like Lady Song.  I think Imight keep it.  Although, I did work quite hard on that dissertation and would really be quite loath to get rid of the ‘Doctor’.”

Voldemort decided, in that moment, that he was not going to respond.  To a word she said.

“Oh, there’s no need to be like that, now.”  The smile was positively a leer now.  _Damn that damnable woman!_   “Besides, you’ll like why I’m here, darling.”

“Will I?” He tried to sound as austere as possible, tried to recapture the high, cold, cruel commanding tone that he had so mastered with his peons. 

“I think so.”  She pulled a piece of paper out of her new, more ample cleavage.  She handed it to him.  “I have a new sweetie and I want a divorce.”

Voldemort blinked at her.  “Now?”

“Yes.”

“You couldn’t have done this when I wanted one twenty years ago?”

She let out a laugh.  “Of course not, darling.  I was far too deficient to have managed without you.  But, I think I have my psychopathy in control, so if you don’t mind signing along the dotted line…”

He read through the contract.  It was very simple.  She didn’t want anything from him and he wouldn’t have anything from her.  And it would be the end of this whole, sordid business.

He signed, putting the name _Tom Marvolo Riddle_ on paper for the first time in years.

He handed it back to her.

“Get out,” he hissed.  She was on her feet again, her hips swaying celebratorially at her newly achieved divorcée status.

“Oh, don’t worry.  I wouldn’t want to stick around.  Especially not come May.”

His heart beat faster.  “What’s in May?” he demanded, the cold voice sounding—not so much cold as nauseatingly tepid.  And a little bit clouded.

The smile was positively feline (he hated cats.)  “Spoilers.”

And with a flash of light, she was gone.

**Author's Note:**

> If, for some reason, the picture doesn't show up--google the summary of this fic. It's quite pleasing.


End file.
